Truth & Temptation

by Riley Edgewood

  "Jesus."

  "My boss asked if I did it on purpose."

  "She's an asshole." There's no pause before his words. He doesn't think for a second before assuming I didn't do it, and those thrills melt into a gooier sort of happiness.

  "The thing is… I admitted to it." I watch his face carefully, testing him in the most unfair way.

  But—literally, the first person ever—he passes, and says, "So, it's not just me you lie to."

  I can't remember the last time I cried, and I'm sure as shit not about to start because he has this sort of faith in me.

  My damn eyes need to stop stinging. Immediately.

  "What makes you so sure?" I ask, staring out the windshield now, avoiding his gaze. Blinking like a fucking madwoman.

  "You're a kitten," he says. "Not a scorpion. You've got the tools to hurt people—but not the drive to really fuck them up."

  "Not a scorpion," I repeat. "That's the strangest compliment I've ever received. But I'm not sure you know me as well as you think you do. Plenty of people would disagree."

  "Because you lie," he says. "Because you present a version of yourself to push people away."

  "Whatever you say, Dr. Shrink Man." I mock him, but the truth is—he scares me.

  He forces a sort of…not happiness, exactly, but something closer to excitement through my veins. He gets me and I don't know why. One part of my mind whispers finally. But another is screaming run.

  "Anyway," I say, my voice flat. "Whatever. No. I didn't do it on purpose. I mixed up the instructions. Added too high a level of peroxide and kept her under the lamp for too long. I told you, reading isn't my thing. So, for the record, if you could stop shoving books down my throat, that'd be great."

  Slipping into asshole-mode is like rediscovering my skin, keeping my insides from feeling so exposed.

  It also makes me hate myself.

  He's quiet for the rest of the ride, but when I park, before he slides out of the car he turns to me and says, "Push me away all you want. I'm still taking you out on Friday."

  "Can't you get in—I don't know—huge trouble for sleeping with your assistant?"

  He lifts his brows. "Who said anything about sleeping with you?"

  "Alec, come on." I'm not sure his answer will change anything, but I'd like to know what we could be up against.

  "My father owns this company," he reminds me, though it doesn't really reassure me. "And I told you. I like you. I'm not a random sleazy boss trying to get in the hot chick's pants because I have some sort of power over you. You like me, too—even," he holds up a hand when I open my mouth to contradict him, "if you won't admit it. So I'm taking you out."

  I was going to protest the hot chick comment, but I'm glad he stopped me. There's a flush in my veins making me feel way too light inside to ruin it by dismissing his compliment. Still, "I still haven't said yes."

  "You will."

  "Really, that self-esteem. Try to think a little higher of yourself, okay? Or maybe you should try talking to a professional." I laugh and he does too, and we get out of the car like nothing's changed, but I can't help wondering if he hears the tiniest bit of longing that slipped into my voice. He seems so observant about every little thing.

  But it's weird, isn't it? That a girl might fantasize about affording professional help. Like, screw fancy cars. Forget designer clothes. I'll spend my adulthood in a one-bedroom apartment, if I have to.

  Someday, I will have health insurance.

  Someday, I will be the one to speak with a shrink.

  Someday, I will stop hating people for no reason. I will stop being so goddamn angry over nothing, ninety percent of the time.

  Okay, ninety-five, if I'm being honest. And that's the new goal, isn't it?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  "YES, BY THE way, to Friday night," I say as we walk into the building. My voice is steady, as though my heart is beating at its regular pace instead of like it's chugged a gallon of coffee. "One condition, though. I meet you out. You aren't picking me up." Not in a million years is he laying eyes on my grandparents' place.

  "No," he says. "I'm driving, like a real date. You don't need a car to make an escape. If you want to go home at any point, I'll take you."

  Oh, God. He doesn't get it. It's almost laughable.

  But maybe I can let him grab me at Cassidy's house. "Fine."

  "Good," he says. "I like when you let me have my way."

  "Don't count on it becoming a thing."

  "I've been very clear about my…thing." He says it with a straight face and a low tone, and I explode into a firework and burn down the building around us.

  Now how am I supposed to make it until Friday? How am I supposed to stay professional around my very sexy, very commanding boss?

  How the hell am I supposed to stop thinking about his thing? Or the way he might use it to make me beg? Or his tongue? Or… God. I have to get a fucking grip.

  It's just that he doesn't make it easy.

  On Wednesday, I find a wrapped gift on my chair, hidden under my desk. And when Sam gets up to grab coffee, I tear into it, finding a fancy set of headphones attached to two cards: one in an envelope, the other face up with instructions written on it.

  Download an app called AudioVectorEase on my phone. Enter the code listed on the instructions. Then read the second card. I do it all—a bit hesitantly, though I'm not sure why.

  The second card reads: I know books aren't your thing. But I think audiobooks could be. The code you entered pre-downloaded one of my all-time favorites. Figured you might enjoy it, given your love of vampires and violence. And trust me, you won't need a movie to enjoy this one. Alec.

  At first, I'm confused.

  At first, I think, books? Reading on my phone will suck even more than reading across a page. He doesn't get me like I thought he did.

  But a second or two later, I put it together. Not reading. Listening. Audio. Plus headphones.

  Interesting…

  And sweet.

  Then stupid Sam returns with coffee and even though he has one for me, I hate him a little. I want to listen right away, but I want to do it in private. So I'm stuck in a workday with hours and hours to go until I can use Alec's gift.

  Alec, who smiles when he sees me and asks if I liked my assignment, like he's trying to speak code in front of Sam—though Sam's expression says he knows there's something else going on.

  "We'll see," I say, noncommittally. His smile turns smug, like he's so sure I'll love it. Which kind of makes me not want to—which is totally fucked up. "How's your grandfather?"

  "Released last night," he says. "Home. Dr. Greenwald's staying with him for a few days."

  A live-in doctor. It must be so weird and so amazing and so… I can't even come up with the right word, to have that much money.

  It turns out, I do love Alec's gift. Listening to a book—all I have to do is close my eyes and soak it up. No actual reading. And the one he chose for me is perfect. The Passage. Post-apocalyptic vampires created in a government experiment gone wrong? Game freaking on. I'm up all night listening to it—to the point that I have to stop at a drugstore on my way to work, to find something to cover the bags under my eyes that are threatening to eat my cheeks.

  I'm sluggish and dreading seeing Alec because I'm also all crumpled and not put together. I have half a mind to tell him it's all his fault, but he'd probably get a kick out of keeping me up all night. He's not in today, though. His grandfather is back in the hospital.

  "He left a message this morning," Sam says. "And requested you set up your voice mail. Guess he tried to call you first?" His voice rises on the last word, like he's fishing, like he's hoping I'll tell him what's going on.

  I'm tempted to, too. But my secret infringes on Alec's secret, which isn't mine to share. Instead, I nod. "Can you show me how?"

  I email Alec with my cell phone number when Sam's done. It's on my resume, but I guess he didn't look there. Makes sense since he's not the o
ne who hired me. It's weird we've never texted or spoken on our phones before—but it's also not, because we've known each other a whopping six days. It feels like a hell of a lot longer than that though.

  Which makes me wonder if my mother's genes are starting to surface.

  Am I letting myself get swept up the exact way I've always sworn I wouldn't? With a rich guy and a pretty face?

  My heart tells me this is nothing like that. I do enjoy his pretty face, but I don't care about his money. Hell, had I known how wealthy he was when I met him, I'd never have bothered speaking to him. It's more of a deterrent than a turn-on. But my mind's too used to seeing the darker side of…well, pretty much everything, and I've all but convinced myself to cancel when he texts me.

  Kitten, Looking forward to tomorrow. Wear something sexy to work. To our date, too.

  How's your grandfather?

  A cranky old man. Still kicking.

  I'm glad.

  I miss your face. Send me a picture.

  I snap a shot of my desk.

  Not what I meant.

  I let the conversation taper off here, because his flirting makes me smile—and, annoyingly, that makes something inside of me go sour.

  I'm not my mom. I know I'm not. And I'm not backing out. Alec has substance to go with his pretty face and sky-high bank account. I'm not even interested in the latter, anyway. Wouldn't it be nice, though, a little nagging voice—my mother's voice, again, what the fuck?—whispers in my mind, to let him take care of you. Pay away all your worries. Buy you fancy things and—

  "Earth to Teagan." Sam interrupts my brain spew.

  "What?" I snap even though I'm grateful for the interruption and immediately draw in a deep breath to chill out.

  "I asked if you could cover for me if I leave thirty minutes early."

  "Hot date?"

  "Maybe."

  Taking on Sam's responsibilities might help me pass the time a little faster—until I get to go on my own hot date. "What do I need to do?"

  He spends the next while showing me how to work Alec's calendar in case anyone calls regarding meetings. Then, I spend the rest of the day trying really, really hard not to snoop through it. Even when I find a few times blocked out with Piper's name across them.

  She's not his real fiancée.

  I repeat the line so many times to myself it stops holding much meaning.

  But God, I wonder what they do when they're together.

  Shit. Between his fake engagement, and my goddamn mother in my mind, this is pretty much doomed from the start. Even if it's only a summer fling—there's no way for it to end well.

  I miss your face, he said. I stare at the text until my eyes blur.

  Stupid. Every thought I've had today is stupid. I need to relax a little.

  Ha.

  Ha ha.

  Because that's so freaking easy.

  Sometimes it's like I'm only a projection of myself. Like the real me actually lives inside my brain, rattling around in there, pounding to get out. Some different, more positive version of myself. She's in there somewhere. I'm in there somewhere. But my brain's got a tight-twisted deadbolt and I don't have a fucking key to get out of it.

  On Friday, I don't dress sexy.

  First of all, I mentally prepare to tell Alec, it's not appropriate. He might be leaving at the end of the summer, but I want to keep working here. I don't want to get a reputation based on how I dress. Which is a bullshit thing to be judged on, but if my grandparents are any indication, that's how the current world works.

  And, second of all… I can't help it, something in me rebels at the thought of following orders, even of a sexy variety.

  I do, though, wear a black lacy bra and undies set under my blouse and skirt, which I have every intention of hinting at to Alec, to wet his tongue.

  I forget all about it when I open my inbox and discover an email from HR telling me there's been a mix-up and that I'm eligible for company-sponsored health insurance.

  And I clap so fucking loud a handful of people turn to stare. And then I drop dead right in my seat.

  Because health insurance.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  "ARE YOU ALIVE?" Sam asks a few minutes later, when I'm still sitting frozen, my head tilted against the back of the chair, my eyes closed. Who knew so much relief would be like sugared air in my veins?

  I take my time and then I smile so wide it's his turn to look shocked. "I'm fucking great."

  "O-kay." He stretches the word out, and it makes me laugh.

  "How was your hot date?"

  He grimaces and I'm about to ask what's wrong, but Alec turns the corner into the room and the world goes a little off-kilter. God, he's fucking hot.

  "He looks like a magazine ad," Sam says, pretty much reading my thoughts.

  "Yup."

  But by the time he's closer to us, both Sam and I are busy working at our computers like we haven't even noticed him.

  "Sam," he says, his tone amused, obviously not buying our act. "Ms. Walker."

  "Boss," I say, acting like it's hard to drag my eyes from my computer screen to him.

  "A word?" He walks into his office without waiting for my answer.

  I stay at my desk, smiling, smug with the upper hand.

  "Um, are you going in there?" Sam asks.

  "Eventually." I lean back in my chair, a relaxed pose even if my blood is beginning to surge beneath my skin.

  My phone rings. I pick it up and hear Alec's cool voice. "Keep me waiting and you'll see what happens when I make you wait. And, kitten, I'm going to love to make you beg."

  I slam the phone down.

  Because, really, what the hell am I supposed to do with that?

  Besides melt into the floor.

  Or race in there and fucking jump him.

  I swallow and hear the saliva travel down my throat like there are no other sounds in the world. I stand, my face flaming, my skin tingling.

  Sam's wearing the superior expression I've just discarded. "Get in trouble?"

  "No." And I freaking giggle.

  "I am going to get this story out of you, you know."

  "There's no story." But, because I can't keep the corners of my mouth under control, I turn and step into Alec's office. Not like that helps with facial control, but at least Alec's allowed to know why I'm smiling.

  "Close the door." He's sitting at his desk, a smug expression across his face. "Playing games this morning?"

  "You're my boss. You're bigger than me. Sexier. I've got to take the upper hand when I can get it."

  "I am your boss," he agrees. "And I am bigger than you. But sexier? That's where you're wrong. Let's have a word about what you're wearing."

  "I know I didn't dress in anything sexy, but I—"

  "Have you seen yourself?" He cocks a brow, his eyes traveling my body, a slow smile parting his lips. "You're sexy as fuck, Teagan. I have half a mind to pull you over this desk right now."

  "Then you should see what I'm wearing underneath this…" I aim for a sultry purse to my lips, but my face is so hot, it's definitely red, which messes up the rest of my expression.

  He doesn't seem to mind, though, running a hand over his hair, his eyes flashing down my body. "Who needs coffee when you're around?"

  "Speaking of, should I get you one?"

  "Not until you tell me what you've got on under there."

  "Black lace," I say. "And not a lot of it."

  As far as exit lines go, it's pretty fucking awesome.

  And when I bring him his coffee, it doesn't bother me nearly as much as I think it will. I don't feel subservient. I feel powerful. Especially when he says, "I'd stand to take that from you, but I'm hard as fucking steel right now."

  "Hmm," I offer, smug all over again. "Maybe I'll be the one making you beg tonight…"

  Another awesome exit line, and before his office door closes behind me, his laughter fills the air.

  I call HR to figure out the whole insurance thing, fi
ll out some paperwork over lunch, and before the day's over, I've made a doctor's appointment, after choosing a primary care physician who's in my network. The knowledge that I have a network keeps a grin on my face almost the entire day. I make a dentist appointment, too. Granted, my teeth are in good shape because I'm fucking religious about taking care of them—kind of have to be when you don't have access to a dentist for years on end. But I make the appointment.

  Because I can.

  Alec emails me, even though he's sitting ten feet behind me. I'm heading out in a few. I'll grab your address from your file and pick you up at seven. Hope you don't have a curfew.

  I respond with, Ew, don't grab my address from my file. That's so creepy. Stay away from my file, stalker. Also, don't fire me for saying that. Pick me up here, with Cassidy's address. Then I add—and hit send before I can chicken out—I only have a curfew if you give me one. For your place.

  Fire you? Not likely. Name a different F-word and my answer might change. Related: will you still be wearing that black lace?

  If you're very, very good. Though, on second thought… I'll pick up a new set after work, because I want fresh…everything for tonight.

  By the way, I'm only flirting. There will be no F-wording going on this evening, in case you were feeling pressure. Or getting excited. Told you I'm making you wait. (I'll wait as long as you need.)

  I'm about to respond when he sends another message. But don't let any of that fool you into thinking I haven't fantasized about what it'd be like basically every second since I met you. Even when you were Cindy. Especially after.